


Crash-course

by wednesday



Category: Extraction (2013)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25613890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: After the first attempt on his life, they set up more guards. Victor’s still mostly out of it, or he might have mentioned how little that’s going to help.
Relationships: Mercy Callo/Victor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	Crash-course

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowersforgraves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/gifts).



After the first attempt on his life, they set up more guards. Victor’s still mostly out of it, or he might have mentioned how little that’s going to help. 

After the second attempt, which thankfully doesn’t get quite as close to succeeding as the first, they start talking about moving him somewhere more safe. Unfortunately, Victor is still fucking out of it with a fucking bullet in his back. That, and they’re in a military installation, and a secret one, unless he’s very mistaken. When he’s not in too much pain, he entertains himself by imagining where whoever is in charge thinks might be safer. 

So there are more guards, probably on the funny assumption that there’s no way Martine could have that many plants, or that no one working for him would risk a few guards. 

After the third attempt – the guy doesn’t even work for anyone, he’s just susceptible to bribery and stupid enough to think no one will pay attention to medical staff – in as many weeks, Victor starts preparing himself to a roomful of guards. Instead he gets the Special Forces guy back. Or since they’ve exchanged their mostly real names now, he gets Mercy. 

That’s a new kind of fun, because Mercy might be the only person Victor’s actually kind of happy to see. It’s hell of a lot more difficult to keep his mouth shut about everything that might possibly contain a shred of information when he entertains himself with his new favorite pastime – riling up Mercy. It’s really fucking hard. The guy must be the calmest fucking person in the world, which makes Victor’s very vivid memories of him fighting like a damn killing machine so much more interesting. 

He also _lives_ his name, which is the weirdest fucking thing Victor’s seen. It doesn’t even look like it’s much of a problem in his very secret Special Forces work, which is just wrong. Fucking Mercy. 

Not that Victor’s complaining – he knows no one else could have gotten him out of that prison alive. 

There’s also the fact that Mercy is the only person Victor is absolutely, one hundred percent sure isn’t working for Martine. It’s nice, falling asleep and knowing he’s very likely to wake up the next day still alive. He can barely remember the last time he felt that way. 

It’s also nice watching Mercy do ridiculous amounts of exercise right there in the hospital room. Kind of makes Victor regret he didn’t have time to appreciate how stupidly hot the guy looks when they were running for their lives. Okay, he spent some of that time appreciating it too. 

He gets informed they’re going to move him, since he’s finally able to get out of his hospital bed without assistance and will probably not keel over and die while doing it. Well, they’re more vague and unnecessarily polite, but that’s what it boils down to. 

One of the stone faced guys in suits says something about Martine going all out to kill Victor, and Victor laughs so hard his most recent bullet hole very sharply reminds of itself. He doesn’t explain, anything he keeps to himself is another piece of currency that’s going to buy him as much freedom as possible, if he survives all this. But fuck, _going all out_. That just makes him wonder how these guys have kept him alive for so long. Luck and Mercy, probably. 

“So, am I getting your phone number?” Victor would absolutely go straight for a going away proposition, now that he’s mostly healed up, if he weren’t one hundred percent sure Mercy would shoot him down. Well, that and the guards and the cameras, so even if a miracle were to happen, they would get interrupted pretty much immediately. 

“My phone number,” Mercy says with that infuriatingly mild expression, though Victor’s spent enough time around him now to recognize the guy is almost smiling. 

“I’d give you mine, but, as you can see, no phone.” 

“Why do you need my phone number?” 

“So I can call you when I’m free, obviously. I did take a bullet for you, you owe me at least one date.” 

“A date?” Oh, that gets some kind of amused expression. Mercy finishes packing the few very impersonal items he still has in the room and waits for Victor to explain. He guesses it’s something – that he waits and doesn’t just turn around and leave. 

“I’m not counting the prison. I’m not opposed to getting handcuffed to you again, but the rest of it was not what I’d call a date. At all.” 

“We’re not going on a date,” Mercy says, but he’s definitely smiling now, so Victor counts this as a win. “You’re not going to be allowed phone calls. Or dates.” 

Now that he thinks about it, Victor should definitely have done this sooner. Might have gotten Mercy as one of his guards wherever they’re taking him. 

Not that he’d spill anything important just because Mercy’s pretty face convinced him, but he knows they would have tried that approach. He was half convinced this, Mercy guarding his hospital bed, was already it. Apparently Victor’s staring hasn’t been as obviously appreciative as he thought. Or they’re going to keep Mercy as a back-up carrot. They’re all about the carrot, now that it’s become clear Martine wants him dead and they’re under the impression Victor has nowhere and no one to run to for safety other than them. 

“Wouldn’t have guessed you’re the kind of guy that would ghost me without even leaving his phone number. You have that reliable, trustworthy thing going on. It’s the face.” Victor waves his hand in a vague circle at Mercy’s head. 

Mercy laughs, and fuck, how does laughter make him look so much hotter? 

“Goodbye, Victor,” he says, and turns to leave. 

“Come on, just your phone number,” Victor calls after him, both because he wants whoever is monitoring to notice, and because he wants that number. Or just wants Mercy to yield to him, for once. It’s going to happen at some point. Maybe. 

Mercy leaves. Not today, then. 

Victor doesn’t really have any personal effects, and if he did, he sure as hell wouldn’t be allowed to pack them himself. He gets up and walks around the room. He’s weakened from all the bed rest and bullets and assassination attempts, but he’s getting better. It gets boring fast, but whoever is escorting him to whatever undisclosed location they’re taking him should be here soon. 

When he sits back down, he finds a card on the blanket at the foot of the bed. 

~~~ 

Less than a week and two overturned cars later Victor’s hiding in the most unremarkable place he could find without giving any kind of personal information and that didn’t have any cameras nearby. It’s a dump, but his recent accommodations do include a Chechen prison, and it’s at least an upgrade from that. 

He sits for more than an hour looking at that card, now with some bloody smudges on it but still readable, turning it around in his hands. Considering his options. He has more of those than his captors, or now former captors, probably think. The memory of that damn Chechen prison that he’s not sure anyone would have bothered to get him out of makes him cut down to the ones that don’t involve Martine. That leaves him with considerably fewer options, but there’s still a decision to be made. 

He should really get the hell out of the country first thing. 

Mercy picks up after the second ring. 

“So, about that date.” 

The silence that follows is tense. Victor amuses himself by coming up with increasingly outraged responses. As always, Mercy doesn’t let himself be baited, the bastard. 

“Yeah, sorry about that, I lost your number,” he says. He sounds almost normal, like this is a conversation with someone he met at the bar a couple of nights ago and not someone on a most wanted list. 

“You have that trustworthy face, so I’ll forgive that,” Victor says. He’s about to do something very stupid and he really needs Mercy to get how much he is willing to risk here. Too much. “Want to meet up again?” 

This pause isn’t as long as the first one, but Mercy still takes a moment to answer. God, Victor wishes he could see his face right now. 

“Sure, yeah. We can do that,” Mercy doesn’t even trip over the words. The unflappable bastard. 

Victor makes sure the meeting place is inconvenient for him, that it won’t be likely to lead _directly_ back to his current hideout. He isn’t completely throwing caution to the wind over that pretty face. Even with a concussion he knows better. He’ll have to move anyway, but he likes having some breathing room. Gives him time to prepare some contingencies. 

~~~ 

Turns out trusting Mercy isn’t the worst idea Victor’s ever had – Mercy shows up alone, follows directions and doesn’t even immediately arrest him. He wants to, obviously, but he’s smart enough to know his chances of keeping him alive are better if they stay hidden. 

There’s a limit to how much Victor is willing to trust him. He isn’t, for example, willing to trust his ability to tell who is and who isn’t on Martine’s payroll. He doesn’t have much choice, though. If he’s going to go with government witness, or whatever they’re expecting him to be, he’s going to have to trust someone other than Mercy at some point. 

Which is one of the main reasons Victor’s not that committed to this course. He’ll try it out though. It’s nice, having someone around that he knows for sure isn’t going to try to kill him, if only because Victor is worth infinitely more to him alive. 

Mercy looks like he hasn’t slept in two days, which means he still looks unfairly attractive, but a bit more tired. Victor on the other hand looks like shit. He doesn’t have any new bullet holes by some miracle of luck, but his ribs are bruised from the crash, he has a concussion, seatbelt burns and a fuckton of other bruises. 

They end up sharing the one sad double bed in the sad, unremarkable apartment. It’s not an improvement, as far as hideouts go, but Victor likes it much better now that Mercy’s lying next to him. 

“So, here we are,” Victor says. He should stop talking. They should both get some sleep while they still can. “You as my new bodyguard.” 

“I’m not your bodyguard, Victor.” Mercy sounds slightly less alert than usual. 

“You’re guarding me, aren’t you?” 

“I thought this was a date,” Mercy says. There’s amusement in his voice. 

Victor was almost falling asleep, not sure where he was going with this conversation before. Now he’s wide awake again and knows all too well where he’d like it to go. Fuck his bruised ribs, he would absolutely go for it otherwise. He lets his head roll to the side and looks at Mercy. His eyes are closed. He still looks too calm and not at all like he could kick someone in the head as hard as Victor knows from personal experience he can. Victor still doesn’t know what it is about Mercy, other than all the muscle, that fascinates him and makes him want so recklessly. 

He draws a deep breath as a test and when nothing catastrophic happens, he decides he’s going to worry about his ribs tomorrow, when the painkillers wear off. 

Mercy doesn’t startle when Victor rolls closer to him and goes for a kiss. He kisses back far too chastely, but he doesn’t push Victor away, which is more than he honestly expected. And then Mercy puts a hand on the side of Victor’s face, holds him with no force whatsoever and keeps kissing him for a very long time. 

When the kiss eventually breaks, Victor draws another deep breath and says, “Yeah, you convinced me, this is definitely a date.” Then he leans into another infuriatingly slow kiss. 


End file.
